An Island Adventure
You plead with them to come to their senses.
There is no magic here, you explain.
The glowing ocean water is simply due to a chemical reaction of two unique chemicals, such as luciferin and photoprotein, that results in bioluminescence or, quite possibly, due to bioluminescent dinoflagellates which, you explain, are a type of plankton, a tiny marine organisms that can sometimes cause the surface of the ocean to sparkle at night or in the dark when illuminated by an outside source such as your torch; you wave around the burning bra and get a round of applause.
"Well," the man who suggested jumping says. "When you put it like that I feel rather stupid."
You pat him on the back, putting an arm around him, and tell him everything will be ok.
You all group hug, except for one person who is quietly having a poo off the edge of the ledge. They do give you a cheery wave, though.
You all make your way back through the cave, across the stream and through the trees, ignoring frantic noises of a large animal mating and a much smaller one crying coming from somewhere nearby, and get back to the beach.
The pilot shouts at you with glee as he sees you approach.
"Welcome, gang, to Babcock's Beach Bar!"
Somehow, he has managed to find enough debris from the flight (along with some foliage and wood from the trees) to create a makeshift beach bar!
Thanks to the fully stocked pilot's stash of booze that was onboard the flight he has also got a large selection of pale ales and stout along with some Um Bongo and cocktail umbrellas.
"Tom here, he's an old man, a captain or something I don't know," the pilot shrugs. "Tom here will pour you a drink if you like. That Australian fella, the one who keeps banging on about letting the cat out, is over there too if you need a massage."
A genial man with a fat head waves at you
"Oh," Babcock says, pointing up to the top of a tree to a man shouting about steam engines. "Ignore Fred."
You all head to the bar, somewhat confused, and look at him with puzzled expressions.
"I managed to get the radio working and we'll be rescued shortly," the pilot says, grinning. "I'm great at everything, me."
He starts singing and encourages you all to join in.
"Come on, then, everybody, clap clap clap!"
As you all celebrate and await your rescue you ruminate on how, as far as Babcock Air goes, this was one of the less weird flights...
There is no magic here, you explain.
The glowing ocean water is simply due to a chemical reaction of two unique chemicals, such as luciferin and photoprotein, that results in bioluminescence or, quite possibly, due to bioluminescent dinoflagellates which, you explain, are a type of plankton, a tiny marine organisms that can sometimes cause the surface of the ocean to sparkle at night or in the dark when illuminated by an outside source such as your torch; you wave around the burning bra and get a round of applause.
"Well," the man who suggested jumping says. "When you put it like that I feel rather stupid."
You pat him on the back, putting an arm around him, and tell him everything will be ok.
You all group hug, except for one person who is quietly having a poo off the edge of the ledge. They do give you a cheery wave, though.
You all make your way back through the cave, across the stream and through the trees, ignoring frantic noises of a large animal mating and a much smaller one crying coming from somewhere nearby, and get back to the beach.
The pilot shouts at you with glee as he sees you approach.
"Welcome, gang, to Babcock's Beach Bar!"
Somehow, he has managed to find enough debris from the flight (along with some foliage and wood from the trees) to create a makeshift beach bar!
Thanks to the fully stocked pilot's stash of booze that was onboard the flight he has also got a large selection of pale ales and stout along with some Um Bongo and cocktail umbrellas.
"Tom here, he's an old man, a captain or something I don't know," the pilot shrugs. "Tom here will pour you a drink if you like. That Australian fella, the one who keeps banging on about letting the cat out, is over there too if you need a massage."
A genial man with a fat head waves at you
"Oh," Babcock says, pointing up to the top of a tree to a man shouting about steam engines. "Ignore Fred."
You all head to the bar, somewhat confused, and look at him with puzzled expressions.
"I managed to get the radio working and we'll be rescued shortly," the pilot says, grinning. "I'm great at everything, me."
He starts singing and encourages you all to join in.
"Come on, then, everybody, clap clap clap!"
As you all celebrate and await your rescue you ruminate on how, as far as Babcock Air goes, this was one of the less weird flights...
